


Out of the Shadows

by Elendiliel



Series: Lightning Strikes [12]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Gen, Post-Order 66 (Star Wars), Pre-Battle of Yavin (Star Wars), Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:02:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29085810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elendiliel/pseuds/Elendiliel
Summary: Eighteen long years after the fall of the Jedi Order, Lightning Squadron and their companion unit, Thunder Squadron, are dealing with an Imperial arms factory on behalf of the Rebel Alliance, and it's not going well. The good thing about working with the Alliance is that they can call for backup. But they have no idea exactly who is going to come to their aid - though they're about to be very pleasantly surprised.
Series: Lightning Strikes [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2087898
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Out of the Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> I've tagged this in both _Clone Wars_ and _Rebels_ because although it takes place in 1 BBY, which is firmly _Rebels_ territory, it features characters from both series. Spoilers for the first three seasons of _Rebels_ ahead.

“Where’s that backup?” Fives, or in the field Lightning Three, had to shout to be heard, even though the rest of his unit – the full-time part of it that side of the grave and enemy lines, at least – was right next to him. Constant laser fire and the occasional explosion made normal speech inaudible.

“Your guess is as good as mine!” Lightning One, named Helli Abbasa by her parents and called Hel by her brothers, matched her former subordinate’s volume. “But they’re on their way. I _know_ it.”

“One good thing about Alliance missions.” Spark, Lightning Five, took advantage of a brief reduction in the ambient noise. “Makes up for the patchy intel.”

“No need to rub it in.” Hel took a shot at a sniper about to reach a dangerous position for her team. It would also have been dangerous for him had she waited any longer. As it was, a guard rail kept him from falling to his death when the stun-bolt hit. “I should have made sure we did our own recon first.”

“Would it have made much difference?” Fives threw a souped-up droid popper at a walker moving towards their cover, such as it was. His aim was still good. The walker’s circuits didn’t stand a chance. Nor would the crew, had Hel not nudged it carefully with the Force such that it collapsed straight down rather than toppling forwards or sideways. She’d had _far_ too much practice at this kind of thing – gently shifting things around in such a way that the motion seemed completely natural. “We had to move in fast anyway.”

The three of them were one-third (by personnel) of a two-squadron assault team charged with taking down an Imperial weapons factory. Hel despised such places on principle, but this one was rumoured to be involved with one or two new projects. They were not good rumours. The Alliance to Restore the Republic, commonly known as the Rebel Alliance, had asked Lightning and Thunder Squadrons to halt production and get as much data on the factory’s output as they could. The two units weren’t exactly part of the Alliance, but they had close ties with it, and had run operations on the same basis before – the Alliance provided intel and backup if things went wrong, and Lightning and/or Thunder got the job done. In this case, as had happened on more than one previous occasion, the backup was sorely needed and the intel hadn’t been adequate. Or, more likely, the Empire had tightened security since the initial recon had been made. Either way, their transport was now a write-off and the combined unit was severely outnumbered and outgunned. Even worse than usual.

On paper, Lightning Squadron were holding open a back door for two-thirds of Thunder Squadron to escape once the main objectives had been achieved. In practice, they were barely holding their own. Hel longed to be able to use her sabre openly, to protect her men as they cut a path through the stormtroopers, or cripple a walker with a single blow. But that hadn’t been possible for a long time. The blaster in her hands really wasn’t her weapon, even after eighteen years in hiding. It would have to do, though. There were a _lot_ of stormtroopers between her, her brothers, her padawans and safety.

Her commlink interrupted her thoughts. Zatt’s voice. “T3 to L1. We’ve done what we can in here. Any sign of backup?”

“Not yet, T3, but I’ve a feeling they won’t be long. Advise you get out here as soon as you safely can. T1, status?”

Petro answered. “We’re also ready to go, and I don’t think anyone should hang around in here. T5 and I will meet up with T2 and T3 and join you outside. T4, T6, how are you doing?”

“We’ve definitely got their attention. The reinforcements should have a clear run down to you, if they’ve got a good enough pilot.” Ganodi sounded remarkably calm for someone facing that many TIEs with only a single wingman. Hel could just see the two Delta-7Bs, so high that they looked like large birds, keeping at least a cruiser’s worth of interceptors beautifully occupied. Like all their unlikely family, Ganodi and Byph were walking the fine line between compromising their safety – and the mission – and revealing their true nature, and getting away with it. For the time being.

Both squadrons were sufficiently fluent in Ithorian (and, for that matter, Shyriiwook) to be able to translate immediately. So when Byph (Thunder Six) alerted them to an incoming ship, not Imperial, their reactions were instant, and very positive.

“Not a moment too soon. Class?” Corellian VCX-100 light freighter. Unconventional, but that was the Alliance for you. It was coming in hot. “How hot?” Supernova.

Byph wasn’t exaggerating. Hel heard the ship before she saw it – engine roar and three sets of guns. The TIEs scattered – not fast enough. She could see that if the newcomers hadn’t been ordered to respect their no-kill policy, there would have been exploding fighters left, right and centre, instead of crippled ones. Whoever was manning the ship’s guns, they were good.

So was the pilot. Lightning Squadron could see the ship now, heading for the surface at a speed that would have looked reckless had it not been so clearly controlled, finding the space Fives, Spark and Hel were clearing for them. It would have been a landing strip, but that didn’t seem to be the pilot’s plan. Instead, the landing ramp was lowered as the ship passed overhead, slowing just enough for the ground assault team to disembark before returning to the battle in the skies.

The first person out of the entrance didn’t even bother with the ramp, but swept out under her own steam, guns already blazing. Hel barely believed her eyes, and her teammates were in a similar position.

“Is that a Mandalorian?” Hel understood Fives’ incredulity. One didn’t see the legendary warriors very often. The various Mandalorian factions were scattered, and mostly subjects or allies of the Empire. This one seemed to be firmly Rebellion, and her armour was… unusual in its design. But she was good at her job, to say the least. The stormtroopers didn’t stand a chance.

By comparison, the two humans who were next into the fray looked quite ordinary to most people at first. But Hel wasn’t most people, and the way the man and boy jumped and landed was so familiar and so unexpected, hitting her like a punch in the stomach even before the newcomers drew and ignited their lightsabres.

She barely registered that the fourth fighter was a Lasat, a rarity in the galaxy since the genocide on Lasan that had sent shockwaves through the Force. Her attention was all on the figures now back to back, expertly deflecting blaster fire to where it would do the most non-lethal damage. _Jedi_. Alive. Still fighting. Here.

The Mandalorian, Lasat and Jedi had thinned out the opposition to the point where she and her teammates could emerge from cover in relative safety, especially given the poor marksmanship of most stormtroopers, and make their way over to their new allies. Hel drew her staff from behind her back, activating its built-in forcefield, and used it as the shield half of the classic sword-and-shield manoeuvre, Fives and Spark just behind her. They had done this so often that she didn’t have to engage her conscious brain, and used it instead to find out whether or not she knew either of these unlooked-for brothers in the Order. The boy was, of course, a stranger – she estimated his age at eighteen or so, not old enough to have been even a youngling when everything changed – but the man she thought she did know. She hadn’t seen him in about twenty years, but his Force-presence was still recognisable.

She called out to him as soon as they were within a comfortable distance of each other. “Caleb? Caleb Dume? Is that you?”

He turned towards her, and despite the mask covering his upper face – including his eyes – his surprise and delight were obvious. “Padawan Abbasa? I don’t believe it!”

“Yes, that’s me – or rather, was. It’s Lightning One in the field, otherwise Helli. And it’s good to see you.” She regretted that last sentence, realising that he was blind, but there was no time to apologise.

“I wish I could say the same.” A wry smile negated any self-pity in the words. “And I go by Kanan Jarrus these days.”

“Fine by me. I’ve used so many names in the last two decades, I’ve lost count. I take it the Alliance sent you?”

“Yes, but they didn’t tell us who you were. Just a bit about your mission. What’s the situation here, apart from the obvious?”

“Four of my people inside the factory, two sabotage, two data-retrieval. They should have met us by now. Two more keeping the TIEs busy.”

“And doing a very good job of it. Between them and the _Ghost_ , I almost feel sorry for the TIE pilots. But we’d better get the rest of your team out of there, fast. Sabine!” That last word cut even through the racket around them, calling the Mandalorian girl over. Hel explained the situation, and Sabine flew away to recruit her Lasat comrade and rescue the rest of Thunder Squadron – assuming they needed rescuing.

While Kanan and Hel had been talking (and fighting), Fives, Spark and their new friends had kept the stormtroopers firmly on the back foot. As Hel watched, an AT-DP collapsed almost gracefully, its legs severed by the younger Jedi, who bounded over to them, green sabre blocking laser fire as though it had a life of its own.

“Helli, this is Ezra Bridger, my apprentice. Ezra, this is Helli Abbasa. She taught me for a while, back when I was a youngling.”

“Koh-to-ya, Padawan Bridger.” The formal phrase came out of nowhere. Ezra clearly hadn’t heard it before, and his master had to prompt him to respond. That response was quickly followed up by, “You’re a Jedi?”

“Believe it or not, yes, I am.” Hel felt that something more was required, a feeling that developed into an idea. One of the crazy kind that so often worked so well, like Force-healing Fives back on Kamino. Without missing a beat, she opened the panel in the middle of her staff to reveal what had been hidden under the grip all these years. Durasteel, copper, carbon fibre and silicone, and at its heart a kyber crystal. She swung the staff back onto her back and, for the first time in public in eighteen years, ignited her sabre.

It was still second nature, blocking incoming fire and redirecting it to where it would do the most property damage without killing. Doing that with one hand, she activated her commlink with the other and called her padawans. “L1 to Thunder Squadron. Open carry. I repeat, _open carry_.”

They had been waiting for this for _years_. Whenever the two units were in the field, all seven Jedi had their sabres on them, but hidden or camouflaged. Hel could picture so clearly in her mind’s eye her apprentices reaching for the concealed weapons, taking them from their hiding places, maybe pausing for a fraction of a second as she had, and igniting the blade. The image was vivid enough that she almost didn’t realise that the sound of four lightsabres being turned on at the edge of hearing was real, and coming from behind her.

Petro, Katooni, Zatt and Gungi stood framed in the entrance to the factory, flanked by the Mandalorian and the Lasat, sabres lighting up their faces. They had grown up so much since that first day on Onderon, but it had been an adolescence and young adulthood overshadowed by constant fear, the Jedi’s deadly enemy. Now they weren’t hiding any more. They were what they had been for most of their lives, but out in the open for all to see.

Or, in Kanan’s case, sense. The half of his face that was visible betrayed a complex mix of emotions, but the dominant ones were bewilderment and joy. “You’re _all_ Jedi?”

“Not us,” Spark corrected. “But the rest of them are. And this is _definitely_ a conversation for somewhere else, and it looks like we’re ready to leave. In a hurry, if I know that lot.”

“Good point.” Kanan took a commlink from his belt. “Spectre One to _Ghost_. We’re ready for pickup.”

“Copy that.” A female voice, Ryloth accent, with little emotion beyond a constant background of exasperation, anger and affection. “We’ll be with you as soon as we can.”

She was as good as her word. By the time the ground teams had regrouped, continuing to push the stormtroopers back out of harm’s way (harm to anyone), the freighter was coming in for another low pass, lowering the landing ramp again. By unspoken agreement, the Lasat, Zeb, was first on, followed by assorted padawans. Fives and Spark made the jump next, aided by Kanan and Hel, who joined them moments later. _Stars_ , Hel had missed that. The Mandalorian, Sabine, brought up the rear, still firing as the ramp was raised before the ship turned and raced for orbit and hyperspace.

Once the TIEs had been evaded, that was, and the last two members of Thunder Squadron and their droids retrieved. The ship shook and tilted violently as the pilot fought to gain altitude and lose her unwanted escort, nearly sending even the group of elite fighters still in the cargo bay tumbling into one another. The astromech who had welcomed them aboard, and been introduced as Chopper, had his feet firmly locked down. The chatter between Ganodi, Byph and the _Ghost_ ’s pilot and gunners (one of whom sounded _very_ familiar), audible through Hel’s commlink, provided real-time updates on the dogfight going on around them, and the chaos below as key but unmanned areas of the factory were put out of operation by Petro and Gungi’s handiwork. Hel let herself relax when the last TIE had been sent packing and the Delta-7Bs had docked with the freighter. Getting to hyperspace, and more comfortable surroundings within the ship, was less important than her apprentices being safe.

“Come and meet the others.” Kanan led the way to the common room, where the rest of the ship’s crew were waiting. A Twi’lek woman in pilot’s gear and two male humans. One was tall and blond, his bearing unmistakably military and probably Imperial. A defector? Helli could only spare part of her brain to consider that, distracted by the other human. So, to a greater extent, were her brothers.

“I might’ve guessed!” Fives pushed past her to greet his fellow clone, the tattoo on his temple he usually kept hidden under a hat or his hair now visible. “It’s good to see you, sir – and to see you haven’t lost your touch.” Captain, later Commander, Rex had been one of the best shots in their legion, and judging by the display earlier still had most or all of his old skill. His presence also explained why her former pupil hadn’t reacted too badly to her teammates, clones though they were.

“Good to see you too, Fives, and you, Spark. You’re looking well.”

“Keeping up with this one tends to have that effect.” Spark indicated Helli. Rex took a moment to figure out who she was. Not surprising, given how careful she’d been since Order 66.

“General Abbasa. I thought this might be one of yours. You look… different.”

“In a good or a bad way?” Helli was grinning broadly now, her tone light and teasing. This was turning out to be quite a day for reunions. “And I’m not a general any more, remember.”

“Just – different. I suppose that’s one way of hiding.” Helli changed her appearance frequently. Sometimes she went for nondescript; at other times, she chose something that would stand out, but that she wouldn’t use again. This was one of the latter times.

“What am I missing?” Kanan could clearly sense her, but not see her. Helli filled in the details the Force probably wouldn’t consider relevant. “Sabre-blue hair, shoulder-length, straightened and in a warrior’s tail. Sabre-green eyes. Skin pale as ever, but uniformly so. Dressed like a cross between a soldier and a smuggler. Still skinny, but no-one’s mistaken me for a child for a long time.” Not for eighteen years.

There wasn’t really a good reply to that, so Kanan moved on to introductions. The pilot’s name was Hera Syndulla, a name Helli already knew, both as Phoenix Leader and as the daughter of the Liberator of Ryloth. She clearly lived up to both reputations. And the chemistry between her and Kanan sounded all kinds of alarms, but wasn’t something to be discussed then and there. Finally, the other human, who must have been manning one set of guns, was Alexsandr Kallus. Helli knew who and what he had previously been, but kept quiet. Not all her team had such scruples.

“Weren’t you ISB?” Petro had clearly read Torrent’s reports – and Helli had still so far failed to teach him any tact. Or he’d been around Spark too long.

“I _was_.” The stress on the word spoke volumes. Kallus’ feelings about his past were decidedly mixed. He must have believed so strongly in the Empire, until he realised what it really was. And he’d chosen to fight alongside people he’d previously tried to kill. Helli sent Petro an eye-message to tell him to drop the subject, but Kallus had other ideas. “How did you know?”

“We’ve had a source close to the ISB since it was founded. Your defection was the talk of the bureau. I have to say, I’m glad you’re on our side.” Fives’ gift for diplomacy had developed a great deal since they had gone rogue.

“Torrent, I take it. How is he? And Echo?” Rex had joined in the conversation again.

“Oh, they’re both fine, or they were at last report. One still dodging retirement with ever-increasing ingenuity, the other off doing stars know what with four of the maddest people Kamino ever produced.” Helli managed to keep her voice level as she talked about her distant brothers. The Code, especially the no-attachments angle, bit hard at times, and she was grateful that her long-ago training had been sufficiently rigorous to cope. Spark explained for the Spectres’ benefit that Torrent and Echo were the other living members of Lightning Squadron. Torrent had stayed in the army after Order 66, keeping his squad supplied with information and the Empire somewhat off their backs. Echo had joined up with the Bad Batch some time previously, after most of the clone army was demobilised. He sent the occasional burst transmission, normally from the middle of a sticky situation. Their paths crossed now and again. Those were _good_ times.

That led naturally to explaining how Helli had survived Order 66, and then how the rest of the squadron had escaped the Emperor’s conditioning. Kanan also wanted to know how she had ended up with _six_ apprentices.

“It wasn’t my idea, believe me – though it’s worked out pretty well, considering. We ran into each other on Onderon, just as the Empire moved in.” Helli saw Kallus flinch as she mentioned Onderon, and made a mental note to have a private talk with him later. She _knew_ there were things he needed to discuss, and she’d be the right sort of person with whom to do so. “I couldn’t just do nothing – about the planet _or_ the younglings.”

“I understand.” A flick-smile towards Ezra. How _those_ two had met looked to be an interesting story.

One that would have to wait. Hera had vanished into the cockpit some time previously, and now announced that they were approaching Yavin IV. Helli mentally prepared herself for debriefing, as she used to do so, so long ago. Those times no longer seemed quite as distant with her sabre on her hip for all to see, not hidden away. She wasn’t ready to give up the line of work she and her brothers had chosen for themselves, which would still mean concealing her identity for some time to come. But her apprentices – they could choose otherwise, if they so wished. After all that time, it was good to be out of the shadows and firmly in the Light.

**Author's Note:**

> This story continues (sort of) in Part 13 of _Lightning Strikes_ , "Sparring Partners", and is chronologically directly preceded by Part 14, "Master and Commander". (I know my timeline is all over the place, but there's precedent for it. _Storms and Rebellions_ contains all Lightning and Thunder Squadron's Rebellion-linked exploits in in-universe chronological order.) If you liked this one, by some remote possibility, they might be interesting as well.


End file.
